


Triune

by wolfhuntsmoon



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Basically a lot of sex, F/M, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Wherein James Barnes is sick of Steve and Peggy's shit, World War Threesome, and does Something about it, because Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers are equally bad at emotions, but not before the, good thing Bucky likes telling them both what idiots they are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-02-01 02:06:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21327919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfhuntsmoon/pseuds/wolfhuntsmoon
Summary: tri·une, adj: constituting three in one.They stumble into Steve’s tent, stinking of smoke and smothered in ash; giggling like schoolgirls, chests heaving and mouths hungry for one another.“Setting Hydra bases on fire gets the blood up like nothing else, don’t you think darling?”Bucky doesn't think so. And he intends to show Steve and Peggy *exactly* what should, instead of gallivanting around Nazi-infested strongholds in search of trouble.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Peggy Carter, James "Bucky" Barnes/Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 22
Kudos: 141
Collections: Captain America Big Bang 2019 | cabigbang





	Triune

**Author's Note:**

> This is our entry for the 2019 Captain America Big Bang! We hope you enjoy it, please leave us a comment and/or a kudos if you did.

* * *

_2342, 9th September 1944, near Aachen on the Belgian-German border: _

They stumble into Steve’s tent, stinking of smoke and smothered in ash; giggling like schoolgirls, chests heaving and mouths hungry for one another. 

“Setting Hydra bases on fire gets the blood up like nothing else, don’t you think darling?” Peggy pants, and it seems Steve agrees. His hands are hot and heavy on her waist, tugging at the buttons of her soot streaked jacket, while the shield lies abandoned at their feet. She grunts, fisting his hair to drag him in for a molten kiss, lips tingling. When they finally break apart, they’re both still panting, but for a different reason than before. 

“All I’ll say is it’s a damn good thing the bars come with _ some _ privacy. God Peg, the way you looked when that factory went off… Mary mother of Christ I could hardly keep my hands off you!” Peggy laughs, her smile a blade, keen and sharp in the flickering gloom offered by the lone candle on the nightstand. Steve inhales, chest expanding like a bellows, as he strips off the uniform’s top. Bar a few ragged cuts, they made it out completely unscathed. When he turns back from laying the vest over a chair back, she’s already shed her jacket, tie and shirt, brassiere soft next to her skin and the top of her girdle peeping out from the high waist of her skirt. Steve’s mouth waters, wanting nothing more than to tuck his fingers under the drab olive and _ rip_.

It must show on his face, since Peggy taps his cheek sharply. Not quite a slap, but not gentle either. “None of that now darling. There’s shortages. And what _ would _ the quartermaster say if I went up to him with that all torn tomorrow morning!”

Steve nearly swallows his tongue, and Peggy grins. Her hair is a mess, her muscles on fire, and she can feel the beginnings of the shakes now the worst of the adrenaline is wearing off. But her boy still looks at her like she’s an oasis in the desert, and isn’t that quite something. When he finally speaks, Steve’s voice is rough with desire, and not a bit of smoke too, Peggy’s sure.

“Can’t help it when you stand there looking so good Peg. Could make a man kill for you, looking like that.”

Peggy arches an eyebrow, and Steve groans. He’s never able to prepare for how it gets him so hot under the collar when she does that. Her calculated, dismissive hauteur is perfect for cutting down arrogant soldiers who don’t believe a woman can work just as well in the military as a man. But by God it sets Steve on alert every time he sees it, some part of him registering the huntress ready to pounce, and happily offering himself up for her to gnaw on. He drags his palms up her flanks, curving round her back until he finds her bra hooks, and fumbles them open. Peggy sighs in pleasure as he throws the bra on top of all their other clothes, breasts pressed against his chest as they surge together again. It’s almost like being drunk, this heady combination of battle high and lust intoxicating them both until the canvas walls around them fade away; nothing and no-one outside relevant.

“Sure didn’t expect a free show tonight, but I’ve always been a lucky son of a gun.” 

The low drawl emanating from the corner has them leap apart, Peggy wielding a knife and Steve his shield within milliseconds. Bucky unfolds himself from the shrouded back corner, limping his way into the pool of light to glare at the pair stood in front of him. Peggy has a moment of distant appreciation for his skill, sneaking in before they arrived and then sitting so motionless that neither of them knew he was there. She also has a vague thought that she ought to be cross about that, in a professional way. But - well. There were other things which required her undivided attention. One of them is stood right next to her, now radiating shame. Which just won’t do. 

“Barnes, what on earth are you doing, lurking in the corner like that?” She tuts. “I expected you to come and find us straight away, not sulk in here like a wet cat.” Steve regards her with growing panic, eyes wide. He clears his throat, but James cuts him off.

“Exactly what part of _ don’t do anything reckless _ didn’t you understand!” Fury suffuses his baritone hiss, and Peggy can see Steve roll his shoulders, huffing out a breath to compose himself to face the onslaught of Storm Barnes. It is, interestingly, a motion which all of the Commandos have mastered, to one degree or another.

Peggy, however, doesn’t play boys’ games. She cocks her head to the side, allows her mouth to curve upwards, hair falling forward into a lush tumble. Once James’ attention is on her, she smirks, pursing her lips; steps forward. “Oh, I understood just fine. We were perfectly safe.” Steve jolts next to her, nearly ruining the calm veneer she projects. She lifts her eyebrows to complete the manoeuvre. “You are a worrywart, James.”

Bucky’s face darkens, frown etching creases into his forehead. “You snuck into a fully manned base, on your own,” he spits, teeth gritted in irritation, “without telling anyone except Dugan what you were planning.” Steve rocks back on his heels at the flash of pure temper in Bucky’s eyes. Sergeant Barnes has a long fuse, as everyone knows, but if you reach the end of it you better pray to the Almighty himself to help you outta the hell headed your way. 

Peggy sets her shoulders, bracing for the onslaught. “I don’t know where you got your information, _ Sergeant Barnes_, but I can assure you that there was no other choice. We had to get that factory shut down, and quick. Most of Hydra’s disintegrating weapons were built there.” Barnes’ expression doesn’t crack. If anything, his body stiffens further.

“I might believe you, Carter, except for how the colonel himself happened to mention what a damn pair of fools you were. Factory or no factory, he told you not to engage unless you had backup.” Bucky limps closer, the knee injury which had seen him benched for this mission on display. Peggy’s eyes glitter as she says nothing, Bucky leaning in to tuck a wild curl into its proper place. “I allow this sort of nonsense when I’m there to keep an eye on you two morons, but I told you: not this time. Just this once, for me, be sensible.” Steve’s high drains away, shame curling in his chest at Bucky’s calmly disappointed tone, as bland as if he were reciting the weather. From the looks of things, Peggy’s going the same way. 

“I’m sorry Buck,” he says, “we got carried away.” There’s not much else he can add to that; it’s God’s own truth, as poor an explanation as it is.

Bucky sighs. “Don’t I know it. How either of you survived the damn war this far is beyond me, throwing yourselves out to be killed every chance you get.” 

“I would think you of all people would understand the necessity of Hydra’s defeat.” Peggy snaps, fingers white around her elbows, cheeks flushed red.

Bucky laughs, long and terrible, and they both cringe.

“Darling, I’m sorry-” Peggy reaches for him, realisation followed by regret spreading across her face.

Bucky jerks himself out of her reach, shouting, “If you were sorry you’d have done as I asked, damn you!” 

Steve can’t take watching anymore, and draws Peggy into his side, the line of her shoulders lacking her usual confidence. He holds his hand out in front of him, palm up. 

“She’s sorry Buck. We’re sorry. God knows it’s got to have been hard, waiting here, cooped up, for news. You’re right - we should have scouted more first. It won’t happen again.”

Bucky straightens, eyeing Steve’s palm like it’s a hornet’s nest. “Jesus Christ, you make me sound like a dog.” His injured knee doesn’t stop him tapping his foot on the group, the sound falling flat in the confines of the tent. “And if you think I believe _ you_, of all people,” he cuts a scorching glare Peggy’s way, “won’t take off on some fool’s errand to find the biggest stack of trouble in all of Europe and poke it at first opportunity, then you must think I’m the greatest fool in all God’s creation!” He spins, back heaving, fists knuckled by his sides.

Peggy twists her way to Steve’s front, and places her palm beside his. Up close, Steve can see the bags under her eyes; long nights and hard days make for little rest. It’s the same for all of them in this war. It chews up people, spits out headstones. 

“Barnes.” 

Bucky spins, running a hand through his hair, his own eyes haunted and wild.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is low, the words forced out against her instincts. “Steve’s right. You’re right. I didn’t think...” Her hands tremble a little, leftover adrenaline juddering its way out of her system. “One does what one must in the field, but one’s ego sometimes rather takes control.” She ignores the thing in her chest telling her to run, telling her to flee from the predator she’s just exposed her throat to. Not all men, she reminds herself, are the same. Some, including this one, are worth their weight in gold and prove it daily.

Her words land like stones in a lake, wryness rippling over Barnes’ features. He raises his palms to scrub them over his face, before dropping them into their outstretched hands. “Aw doll. You sure know how to get me bent out of shape.”

Peggy’s lips curve, his words a benediction. Steve rests his chin on her head, sensing the air clear, inhaling the scent of smoke, sweat, and underneath it all, of _ Peggy._

Bucky reels them both in, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads, before resting his head on Steve’s shoulder, Peggy sandwiched between them. It’s the most comfortable she’s been in months, surrounded by their warm bulk, the world outside a distant memory. The gentle rasp of their breathing soothes something in her she didn’t know was still on alert, and she tips forward, arms looping round James’ neck as he shuffles closer. The moment stretches, then snaps when James shifts, a grimace clouding his face as his bad knee registers a complaint. Peggy yawns. 

“Tired, sweetheart?”

She cracks an eye open to glance up at his inscrutable face. “Perhaps a little.”

“Shame I’m not done with either of you then.” Steve starts in surprise as Bucky pushes Peggy back with just enough force that he needs to wrap his arms around her. The lean outline of him retreats to the cot by the candle, sinking down to splay his legs and lean back, eyes wolf bright and hungry.

“Seemed a shame to interrupt such a pretty sight when you came in, but now I’ll be taking what I’m owed.”

“Owed?” Peggy’s polite disbelief makes Steve hide a grin in her hair. All of Brooklyn back home knew James Barnes was nothing if not meticulous in his accounts. It’s _ fascinating _ to see the reckoning.

“Owed. You got something to prove?” Bucky braces his forearms behind him, taking the time to stretch out his legs and arch his spine in a single, liquid, movement. “Then you prove it to _ me_. Not any other tomcat out there who’s not got the good sense his mother shoulda given him.” 

When he tips his chin up, the strong lines of his neck and shoulders cause Peggy’s breath to catch. “Barnes,” she says, cautious of this new thing between them, “I didn’t… mean to say I don’t think well of you. Because I do, you know.” It’s dangerously close to confessing the flicker she feels when he’s around, that rakish charm of his plastered thick over a core of steel. Cold and unyielding, silent and deadly as a whisper, heard too late as fingers _ squeeze_. 

Peggy’s always admired competence. 

She knows James does too; is the thing. Which makes it that much harder to keep the mask of cool professionalism in place at every briefing, in the wake of every night they slink back to camp, wolves glutted from the hunt. It would be scandalous beyond belief for anything even approaching a rumour to circulate about Agent Carter and Sergeant Barnes. It’s bad enough Steve’s interest in her is an open secret. The three of them have had their fumbles, clothing half off and lips brushing skin for all the briefest of moments before _ something _ came up, as it always does. But never the safety for more.

“Oh I know that, baby.” Barnes tips his head to the side, looking behind her, and she starts as Steve’s lips trail down her neck. 

“Can’t hardly keep your eyes offa me or him, and I’m the same.” The barest scrape of Steve’s teeth against the join of her neck and shoulder has her shudder. 

“So those paloozas who think a dame like you’s not worth her feed? Who don’t listen?” Broad hands caress her breasts, the calluses scraping her nipples in ways that send bolts of lightning down her spine.

“Shouldn’t matter to you because you _ know _ you’re better than that.” She gasps as a wet tongue teases her earlobe, Steve sucking all rational thought from her as his fingers pluck and tug at her areolas.

“What should, is how I _told _ you to be safe.” Peggy lets out a choked cry as every sensation falls away, Jame’s fierce gaze directing Steve to freeze.

“_Both _ of you.” Steve trembles behind her, fear and want combining to have his cock bulging against the base of her spine, and the thought is enough to crack Peggy’s composure entirely.

“Something funny?” The sergeant’s tone is light, but the fire in his gaze has the chuckles in her chest skid to a halt.

“Steve’s afraid of you.” She turns, unsure whether to be afraid herself, or aroused, catching the red tips of Steve’s ears, and the way he won’t meet her eyes. “Isn’t he?”

James smirks, and points to between his legs. She has a moment of confusion before Steve, big, solid Steve who can and does set his will against generals and win, eels forward to drop to his knees between Barnes’ spread legs. 

There are times, Peggy muses, when the phrase ‘you might have knocked me down with a feather’ are an exaggeration.

This? This is not one of them. 

She’s vaguely aware of her jaw hanging open as Barnes fists Steve’s hair and yanks his head back, baring the long strip of his throat, Steve’s eyes fluttering shut as he flushes an even deeper red. The beginnings of a ragged moan escape him, but James gives him a slight shake to cut it off.

“None of that Stevie. Don’t want the whole camp to hear you.” 

He glances up, amused. “Madge. He look afraid to you?”

Steve tries to look towards her as James speaks, but the grip in his hair is unyielding, forcing his head to remain tipped back and on display, chest thrust forward. The resulting tug James gives him in retaliation only has him further relax, mouth slack and legs spreading wide, the bulge in his uniform trousers ever more prominent. 

He doesn’t look afraid. He looks _ obscene_.

And Peggy _ likes _ it.

It must show, because Barnes’ shark grin grows further as he pets Steve’s chest, playing with the pert nubs of his nipples, the blond groaning at the sensation just like Peggy remembers. 

“No. No, I suppose he doesn’t.” She crosses her arms, awkward all of a sudden. Unlike anything they’ve done before, this is obviously something Rogers and Barnes share, perhaps even before the war, where she has no place. And she, like a foolish girl, fell into thinking that she might - what? Slot into this little play, perhaps even in one of the starring roles and not just a bit part? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Now what’s got that beautiful face of of yours creased up like a paper, Carter?” Barnes’ face has gone serious, and Steve is watching her too, the lazy indulgence of his posture gone in favour of concern. It's only Barnes’ hand still anchoring him which keeps him on the floor. 

“Thank you for that… flattering comparison.” She sees Steve exchange a glance with Barnes. “I do believe I shall let you two sort yourselves out.” It's sloppy, and unlike her, but there are times when politeness rather than graciousness will have to do.

“Steve ain’t the only one who owes me Madge.” James’ gaze is intent, the eyes of wolf with prey in its sight, such that he doesn't seem to notice when Steve kisses the wrist holding him still. But the two of them don't need to focus on one another, for he releases Steve without a word.

“And just what is it you think I owe you, _ Sergeant_?” She would feel bad about using her position to make him let go, except that she _ wants_. Wants far too much, to make a good exit.

“A lesson, Carter, that’s all.” Steve rolls to his feet and closes in while she's trying to parse the meaning of his words, damn him. Damn them both. There's a lump in her throat that's hard to clear before she next speaks.

“And what lesson might that be?” Barnes remains silent.

Steve smooths the knuckles of one gorgeous hand underneath her chin, and guides her to stare up into his face, flushed from Barnes’ attentions. But the honest, guileless blue-eyed look he gives her is all his own, right from the day they first met. The body may change, but Steve doesn't. His eyes don’t - still that same piercing blue, seeing into the depths of her, past the walls and prim propriety of Agent Carter. Despite her resolution, it's so hard to keep her spine straight, from slumping into him. Her body knows. 

“Peggy,” he rumbles, “what’s wrong?”

Three words. Three words are all it takes to be her undoing. 

The lump in her throat’s back, and tears in her eyes to go with it. She will not cry, damn the man.

“Oh it’s alright for you to talk of being owed! Of lessons!” She snaps, wobbly. “Lessons! As if I were a girl fresh from finishing school, about to be scolded for, for - for skipping out at night without a chaperone!” Steve makes a soft sound, almost crooning, as he tries to gather her in. Peggy wants to slap him, to slap Barnes, to do _ something _ to get the both of them to stop _ looking _ at her like that. She shoves him away with a hard glare. She can feel the blood rising to her skin, giving away her distress and only hopes they think it’s temper. She snatches in a breath through her nose, forcing herself to calm down, to strangle the heavy feeling under her breast and put back on the disinterested mask. “A woman grown, James, owes no man a thing in the world.”

He’s quiet, considering, and Steve hovers between them. Poor boy, like a puppy, doesn't know where to go when his favourites are fighting. 

James leans forward on the cot, bracing his elbows on his thighs, breathing out a gust of exasperation as he does. “Did you hear me say who the lesson was for, Carter?” He allows a crooked smile to cross his tired face. “I said you owed me a lesson. Just so happens that lesson was going to be for me. For us. About you.”

It's such a strange answer it takes a moment for her to realise what he's saying. The heavy feeling is back under her ribs, clawing at her lungs so she's forced to huff out short, sharp breaths. “What do you mean, a lesson for you? You’ve clearly done this before, what on earth do you need me for? I’ll not be used for your amusement, like, like... some cheap whore!” 

The accusation cracks in the air; a challenge at dawn. The tears are threatening to spill over now, so she turns to the side, Barnes behind her. Steve’s staring at her as if he's never seen her before, eyes big and wounded, mouth tight. There’s a soft ‘hah’ of realisation.

“Peggy-”

“Can it, Steve.” 

She stares at the dark wall of the tent, trying not to think, trying not to _ breathe_. There's a rustle of cloth, the cream of the bed, and then uneven footsteps. When James’ arm curves around her waist, she doesn't react. 

“Baby, you don't owe us nothing, that's right. But don't you dare tell me you ain’t needed by us. Because doll, that's a simple fact of life.” Steve murmurs agreement behind him, another arm snaking around her waist, warming goosebumped skin in the tent’s cool confines.

God, is this what it's like in interrogations, being cracked open and having everything extracted from you? The marrow sucked from your bones? The thing in her chest has her gasping now, hardly able to hold on to James’ and Steve’s arms around her, the thought that she's _ wanted_, that's she’s _ needed _ like this too delicious to even contemplate.

“Peggy,” Steve nuzzles her cheek, the bastard, “I love you. It ain’t your fault me an’ Buck got a head start on knowin’ each other. You ain’t just an extra. Just means we want to spend more time discovering you, is all.” 

Oh, Steve. He always knows just what to say, except now is not the time, because they're in the middle of camp and a bloody war and Peggy simply can't collapse in a snotty, crying mess, she can’t.

Until one, too-clever-for-his-own-good sergeant recognises her quivers for what they are and clamps her into an unyielding, unshakeable embrace, turning her head into his shoulder to sob, as if a mountain could come down and wrap around you. “Oh darlin’,” he breathes, “darlin’ girl, you could never play second fiddle to anyone, least of all a pair of ugly schmucks like us.”

It's a lovely feeling, hearing his words and Steve’s laugh, for all that the teary fit leaves her a mess, streaky eyed and blotchy. She's never been one of those women who can sniff and dab elegantly at their eyes. Peggy cries the same way she goes about life, with everything she has. It's probably why she doesn't allow herself the privilege very often. 

“Forgive me for thinking that it might have been the case. You were quite inscrutable, the both of you,” she mumbles. Bucky’s chuckle vibrates against her skin. 

“Madge, the day we end up with better poker faces than you will be the day Hitler declares peace.” He smiles down at her, the corner of his eyes crinkled. “Too good a spy, darlin’. We can fix that, though.”

“Oh, you!” She bats him on the chest, Steve sniggering behind her, pressing closer.

“Gotta admit it Pegs, but he’s right. S’why Philips didn't shout at us when we came back - you were too good at tellin’ him what we _ didn’t _ do. Although,” Steve’s voice turns morose, “seein’ as _ someone _ here got told, he found out anyways. Must’a been Dugan.” Peggy snuggles closer, feeling as if she’s floating happily above the Earth, war forgotten. Her boys - _ her _ boys, the only anchors tethering her to reality, but the simultaneous source of a wellspring of contentment etched in every fibre and sinew.

“And _ someone _ was not happy to find out the crap that you got up to, you punks.” The mock sternness in Barnes’ voice has a steel thread lurking under the surface, one that has Peggy’s mouth go dry.

“Steve, go.” The snap in his voice distracts Peggy for long enough that she doesn't kick Barnes’ bad knee or his testicles when he sweeps her off her feet and places her on the cot. But it's a close thing. He slithers in beside her, heedless of her outrage, Steve sliding back in between his spread legs, and oh. That's a beautiful sight. Barnes knows it too. “Ain’t he pretty like this, on his knees?” Steve goes the colour of a setting sun, but doesn't break his position, legs spread, back straight and each hand resting on James’ thigh.

“Quite.” She's breathless again, but more because of the low flame of desire curling in her gut, than through anger or despair. 

She tucks herself further into James’ side, wriggling a hand inside his shirt and onto bare skin. He pops a kiss onto her temple, noses along her cheek, trailing fingertips down the side of her breast. The earlier arousal Steve had lit bursts into flame again, and she lets out a quiet groan. It’s echoed by Steve, still pinned to the floor by Bucky’s command, but his eyes are black with avarice at the sight of them. It shouldn't do such wicked things to her, that the best man she knows commits cardinal sins so easily for her, except that it does. Need surges in her core, and she _ wants_, more than anything, to see what Barnes had meant, now, by a ‘lesson’.

“You like how he looks at you, doll?” 

She nods, teeth digging into her lips as she struggles to reach for her skirt’s zipper.

“You like how he c’n barely control himself?” James’ boot nudges Steve’s crotch, and the super soldier whines, head thrown back and muscles taut, but not moving an inch. “How he looks at you like the last sweet in the mess? Like he’d do anything to get his mouth on you?”

She moans, again, the image of it overwhelming. 

“Because he does, he wants it. Look at him, he’s gagging for it, like your cunt’s water in the desert.” She gasps, shocked but heated by the crude descriptions tumbling from James’ burning lips, whispered into her skin as he fondles her breasts while she struggles to work her skirt and slip down her aching thighs. 

“James-” she moans, hardly able to stand it. 

His laugh is dark and rich, like velvet. “Steve, help her out. But don’t touch until I say so.”

James mouth descends on hers and the fabric finally, finally slides free, Steve's clever hands skimming her legs in the most tantalising fashion. He makes short work of her girdle and underthings too, but Peggy’s a little too preoccupied to properly appreciate his efforts, given how's she’s been enveloped by Barnes’ mouth, stubble rasping her cheeks as he kisses her like a dying man, hands roaming across every inch of her skin like he can't get enough. She manages, after some of the most intense minutes of her life, to push him away and swing herself, fully nude, onto his lap. 

“What now?” She asks, aware of how red her lips will be, how wild her hair, and not caring a whit about it. 

Barnes grabs Steve’s nape and pulls him over and up to sit on the cot with them. By the time he arrives, Steve’s eyes are hazy with pleasure, body lax against Bucky and happy as a clam to follow his direction. 

“Never woulda thought, wouldja?” Bucky grins, feral. The flash of teeth, Peggy’s afraid to say, only makes her clench and grind down on his lap further. “Big Captain America, always in charge. But you get him in his place and he’s sweet as a kitten. Got no qualms about doin’ as he’s told, neither.”

Steve moans, a tiny, broken thing, as Barnes forgoes his hair grip and massages the swell of his crotch instead. “Now he knows how to please me-” And Lord above, Peggy thinks, if that isn't a thought that needs exploring later - “but never had his chance with a dame afore. Could never get one who saw him for him, but you. So he’s got some learnin’ to do. As do you.”

She tenses, the rawness of their fight earlier still to close. But Barnes strokes his rough palm down her back and she relaxes, caught in the story he’s weaving before her.

“I gotta teach him how to ‘preciate a woman, how to give her what she needs.” His dark baritone vibrates through her, before turning sharp. “Ain’t that right Stevie?”

“Yes Buck!” Steve yelps, as James digs his hand into Steve’s fly, squeezing his balls, eyes half lidded like a lion’s. 

“An Stevie’s a quick learner, for sure, but he needs a demonstration first, then some practice of his own.” Peggy wriggles, leaning down to tug Barnes’ shirt off as she realises his plan.

“Off, off - now Barnes!”

He laughs, and catches her wrists, easily stopping her. “That a yes, darlin’?” She can't hide the way her pupils dilate at that, nor the sudden jump in her pulse. He hums, intrigued, and Peggy just knows, that this will be her doom. 

“I think you like that idea. I think you like that idea a lot. But is it the idea of Steve eatin’ you out you like-” her breath hitches - “or me tellin’ you both how it’s gonna be?” She writhes against him, the sleek contours of his body hidden by a maddening number of layers when all she wants is _ skin._

“Oh it's both, hm? Alright then. I’ll remember - number two’s real interestin’, Madge.” She growls a protest at the impertinent nickname, and he has the gall to snort. “Steve, up. Take her arms, hold her for me.” 

Warm hands find her wrists again as those big blues fill her vision. Barnes, meanwhile, is blazing a trail down her body, nips and licks around all her most sensitive areas making her buck, hips seeking friction. He raises his head to look up the length of her, eyes amused. “You get this one for free.” She has no time to wonder what he means because no sooner does the sentence finish than he _ descends _ on her. Good grief, if they could get half this level of enthusiasm for most operations, the war would have been over a year ago. Barnes swirls his tongue in the heat of her, over and over, finding the spots that make her tense, then going over and over them with his tongue in different ways until she's nearly sobbing with the intensity; tumbling full steam over the edge of her climax like a locomotive. He soothes her down from it, lips and tongue gentling her until she's only gasping like she’s run a mile, not a marathon. 

He slithers over her, bracing himself above to watch her shiver, before lowering himself for a kiss, the taste of herself foreign but exciting. There's a noise of protest when he breaks away - oh, it's her - but he slides a palm down her cheek and shushes her. 

“Don't you worry, we’ll not leave you hanging doll. But it’s Steve’s turn now.” She moans, core clenching on emptiness. “I’m goin'ta stay up here with you, let him know how he’s doing. This might take a while.” She giggles as Steve lets out an outraged sound, Bucky’s delighted hum overlaying the sound. “Always such a competitive little shit, Rogers. Alright, let’s see what you got. But remember - you wait for my say so.”

Peggy only has time to gasp out a confused “What?” before a _ very _ enthusiastic Steven. G Rogers engages her nether regions like a particularly delicious dessert. It's messy, and sloppy, and nowhere near as _ focused _ as Barnes, but _ exquisitely good_, and it's not long before she can feel release coiling in her belly again. All the while Barnes alternates sniping orders and insults to Steve, and a crooning endearments to her. 

“Harder Steve, that serum’s got to be good for somethin’...”

“Madge, darling, you have the finest breasts a man could ever dream of…”

“Circles, point your tongue. Take your time, it's delicate. Good, like that. See how her hips start to move? You know you have the spot then, work her up to it, then come back. That’ll send her over the edge.”

“Baby, you taste like sin, you know that? Me an’ Steve, we can't get enough of you darlin’, you could turn a priest from the church…”

It seems like no time at all until she’s clinging onto the precipice, lungs struggling to haul in enough air to keep her conscious against the burning well of pressure waiting to erupt. 

“Steve...” She moans, fighting to pull away from Barnes’ iron grip. He chuckles and bends to kiss her, still playing with her breasts.

“Ease up Stevie, pull back a bit now.” Her eyes fly open as Steve’s tongue gentles, riding the edge but failing to push her over.  
  
“Get back here!” She can’t make herself sound anything but desperate; not exactly a strong negotiating position. Especially when held down by not one, but two brawny soldiers. “Barnes!”

“Barnes now, am I Madge?” He pinches her nipple, the shock of pain making her squeak, before she jerks, mewling, as Steve’s tongue brushes over her clit, far, far too lightly. “I told you the first one was free. This one ain’t.”

“_ What_?”Just as soon as she can make it off the bed, she’s going to strangle him. With his own trousers no less. 

The devil’s glint shines in his eyes as he taunts her, roaming up and down her body while Steve keeps her on the edge, enough to ensure there’s barely a single coherent thought in her head except for that she wants to _ bloody come_. “Gotta give me the words baby. Then you’ll get what you want.”

“_ Passwords_?” She hisses. “Of for the love of-!” Barnes’ hands tighten on her wrists and carefully pinned hair just enough to threaten pain and she bites her lip to strangle the wail that wants to escape. No wonder Steve likes this, if just the threat of Barne’s yanking has her kick her hips up again, futilely chasing the rasp of Steve’s stubble against her inner thighs. 

“Please!” She bites it out, panting, twisting like a mad thing for leverage, except there’s none to be had.

James’ grin curls up a notch. “Mmm, very pretty, but no. You have to learn the lesson. Try again.”

Peggy digs her nails into the meat of his forearms, snarling. There’s a clue somewhere in what James is saying, but she can’t process it through the cloud of lust setting her skin of fire. “Just tell me!”

“No regrets, huh?”

She seizes as Steve’s thick fingers slide into her, dimly aware that her reactions are only going to encourage Barnes to torment her further like this in the future. It’s not nearly as terrible a thought as she’d want it to be. “Re- ah! -grets?”

Powerful palms cup her chin, drawing it back until she’s arched, all the better for Steve to press his fingers in again, in one spot, stars exploding across her vision. She sobs as he withdraws, playing with her labia, swirling his fingers in her wetness without giving an ounce of relief. “Mmm.” Barnes hums, like a cat with the cream. “Seems your memory’s a little short. Hydra bases without backup ring a bell?”

Oh. Oh that backstabbing, insufferable, smug _ Yank_. “I’ll be safe.”

“Ah. Better.” He bites at her collarbone, worrying the skin so it throbs. “But not quite all there yet.”

“I promise?”

Both he and Steve laugh as she pouts at them. The pout soon turns to open mouthed wonder, as Steve dips his head back down to nose her cunt. It’s dripping, greedy for his fingers again; Barnes resuming his languid exploration of her torso. 

“You’ll be safe alright, no hardship for me to watch your… back.” He leers, and she screws up her face in mock disgust. “But you still ain’t finished answering. Tell me why you _ will _ keep yourself safe.”

The softest touch to her cheek feels heavenly, with how sensitised her skin is. She can almost feel every one of her cells pulse in time with the roaring heartbeat rushing in her ears. She sighs. “Because… because I haven’t anything to prove.”

A hand in her hair has Peggy let out a high, animal keen, Barnes curving her toward him, the big muscles in his arms bunching. He’s still almost fully clothed, just the front of his shirt open and falling back against his upper arms. Damn him. But there’s no time for her to register a protest about this frankly lamentable state of affairs, because he’s pushing Steve’s head back down, the delicious slide of his lips finally, finally giving her what she _ needs_. Long, callused fingers find that spot again and she feels herself tightening, when he gives her one last, scorching glance, before sealing his mouth over her clit and sucking, tongue drawing steady circles round the nub as she shakes.

Having been held off, against her will she might add, for so long, the orgasm barrels over her without mercy, seizing her muscles and shaking her so hard Barnes pins her down again, Steve working to draw it out until all Peggy feels is the quiver of exhausted muscles and all she hears is that dark wolf’s croon in her ear. “That’s right sweetheart, that’s so good. Only thing you _ ever _ got to prove, is how much you want _ this_.”

Peggy doesn’t ever recall feeling this exhausted before. Every limb feels utterly leaden; if she could lie here for the next century she would, and happily. 

Except for the fact that Barnes has other matters on his mind. He’s plainly grown too impatient to wait, and drags Steve up from his veneration of her, attacks his mouth, growling praise in between fierce kisses and stripping him from his uniform trousers at last. Steve clutches at Barnes’ hips, the pink hue to his face and chest a wonderful counterpoint to the crisp whiteness of his underwear, whining as clever hands fondle his balls and rub his shaft, never quite giving him enough stimulation to tip over the edge.

Normally, Peggy would have given him a firm, slick grip to thrust into, would have knelt and taken care of that straining erection with lips and tongue and teeth. Normally. But James is a new element, and where this little show of theirs might go next is… intriguing, to say the least.

Besides, she owes Steve _ at least _ a few more minutes of agony for making her beg earlier.

Ignoring Steve’s whining, she shifts, propping her head onto James’ thigh, looking up at the two of them in time to see Steve gasp and flinch as James squeezes his sac without mercy. 

“My my,” Peggy tsks. “Make sure there’s no permanent damage, would you? I have a use for that, you know.”

She can see colour flooding Steve’s face at the casual remark, and Bucky glances down, face amused. “No permanent damage, huh?”

She shrugs her shoulders as much as the position allows, keeps her voice deliberately light. “I find it bounces back quite quickly, even after hard use.” She allows herself a flash of teeth. “One does like to be as efficient as possible - for the war effort. I’m not opposed to sharing my toys when they can be reused.” 

“Oh, of course,” he agrees, face alight with mischief, “waste not, want not.” Steve moans, broken, and his hips thrust into empty air at their words.

Barnes fists Steve’s hair and drags the blonde’s head back, staring into his lust filled gaze. “Hear that, punk? Agent Carter-” It should not, Peggy thinks, be such an arousing notion to hear her title fall from the sergeant’s lips, “seems to think you’ve got a second use yet. Me, I’m not so sure.” Steve’s eyes drift shut as the pain radiates through his scalp, his mouth dropping open on a silent moan. 

James swallows it up, surging forward to lick into Steve’s mouth, the bulge in his fatigues obvious from her new angle. 

Peggy can’t resist - what’s a woman to do when surrounded by such prime real estate as this except fantasise about it in excruciating detail, and Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes had been no exception - and worms one tired arm up far enough that she can settle her palm over the heat of his crotch, providing the lightest of touches at first, before slowly unzipping his fly and working her hand against the flesh of his _ very _ erect cock. 

James moans into Steve’s mouth, breaks off from kissing him to look down, and then groans again. “You,” he pants, pushing Steve back to kneel on the floor, “will be the death of me, you English vixen.”

Peggy, quite reasonably, feels there is no need for any response to that statement other than an urchin-like grin. To her surprise, Barnes’ prick twitches in response, and its owner shudders. 

“It seems that you quite like that idea, James.” She says, careful to enunciate his name with excruciating precision, lingering on the sibilants.

He drags in air through flared nostrils, chest beginning to gleam with sweat and the big muscles in his back bunch as another shudder ripples through him. “You have,” he grunts, “no fucking idea, how much I love that idea, Madge.”

“Mmmm,” she hums, distant arousal starting to make itself known again at the thought. “Perhaps another time, darling. Poor Steve rather wants to show you his usefulness now, I think.”

A bolt of heat flashes through her core at the naked want on James’ face. 

“Hm.” James scowls, dropping his grip and leaning back to regard the wrecked super soldier at his feet. Steve is flushed still, damp with sweat like them all and mouth shiny with the evidence of his prior activities, hair mussed from James’ iron grip and really, there is no mistake about what he’s been up to for the past half an hour. His cock has been hard for so long he’s soaked through a large portion of the front of his briefs, and the catch of the fabric rasping across the sensitised skin as he moves provokes minute little ‘hah’s’ with each inhale.

“Well Steve, whaddaya say? Want to prove your lady right when she says there’s more’n one use for you? You still taste of her, you know, finest taste I ever had out here, so I guess there’s at least _ one _ thing you can do right.”

And oh, does he know Steve well, that boy, the familiar fire of utter, pigheaded determination heating up Steve’s gaze as he nods, waiting for Peggy to release James’ cock. 

Which she’s not inclined to, yet, it being such a nice handful. 

James turns his gaze to her, breath coming faster as she works him, rolling her fingertips and varying the pressure, exploring what makes Barnes twitch, what makes him suck in a surprised gasp of air.

It seems long, manicured, nails are an investment worth paying for even if field work ruins them on the regular. He tips his head back, sighing as she settles into a lighter, but steadier touch, one hand coming to cradle the back of her neck and scratch through the hairline at the base of her skull, sending bolts of lightning down Peggy’s spine. She groans, arching her back in pleasure, and no little wonder too, a third go around something she rarely indulges in on her own, and never before with a partner.

A whimper floats up from beside her and she smiles. Poor, eager, neglected Steve. Desperate for his favourites to stop fighting, but as with so many things, not quite thinking through the consequences of what might happen if they did.

Still, she doubts he’ll have any complaints once they’re all finished. Looking up at Barnes, she finds he’s already watching her, eyes hot and heavy on her hands and breasts where she’s splayed out on his lap. 

“I think,” Barnes says, mouth twitching, “there was another matter you wanted to attend to?”

Peggy casts a derisive glance at Steve’s neglected front. “Goodness no. I’ll not be humped like a bitch in heat by an overeager pup,” Steve grumbles, his lips coming together in a gorgeous pout of protest. “And anyway, I believe it was you he was meant to be demonstrating his usefulness to, wasn’t it?” With that, she releases James, settling in to enjoy the next stage of the show.

“Yes,” James purrs, hand still toying with her scalp. “He was. Slacking though, as usual, wants me to do all the work.”

“Oh dear.” Peggy really is finding it far too difficult to hide her laughter at this excellent new game Steve hasn’t realised they’re playing, his outraged expression fodder to a great many of her nighttime desires. “I suppose you had better correct his attitude, then.”

“I like the way you think, Madge.” Barnes’ gaze rolls down Steve, making the soldier shift in closer to his legs. “Mmm, that’s the idea Stevie, now you’re getting it. Took long enough though.”

Steve scowls, and Peggy reaches out to seize his nipple - it is at just the right height after all, and squeezes sharply, just enough to threaten to hurt. The wounded noise he makes has James chuckling. She clears her throat. “Stop lollygagging around, Captain. The Sergeant and I have given you more than enough hints. Show us what you’re good for - suck his cock. Now.”

James’ breathy sigh of wonder is matched by Steve’s goggled eyed stare, the two of them a prime example of why more women need to just get to the point in bed - or out of it, she supposes - because apparently hearing the word cock from a woman’s mouth is enough to completely dissolve all their higher functioning. 

She gives Steve’s nipple a quick twist, and the bite of pain is enough to have him yelp but move, nuzzling into James’ crotch and darting his tongue out to lave the head. The action has James’ hips shift, his breath coming faster, and Peggy clamps her thighs together, clit buzzing again with anticipation. “Come on,” she snaps, infusing the command with every bit of steel she knows how, “get to it Steven, and do the job properly.” 

Bucky huffs out a laugh as her tone produces the desired effect, Steve bobbing his head to suck his shaft fully, warm velvet heat enveloping him so that all he can do is throw his head back and groan, hands blindly clutching to the scalps of the two most wonderful yet wicked people he’s ever known.

The weight of Peggy’s head on his thigh anchors him when he feels as if he’s about to float out of his skin with the sensation, enjoying the wetness, the clever flicks of Steve’s tongue because his boy knows how he likes it and wants to prove he can be good. 

“So good,” he pants, “so good for me Stevie, that’s it, c’mon, make me come down that pretty throat.” A whine from Steve, and he drags his head forward, lassitude singing through every inch of him but needing to see the flush, the needy whimpers of him on his knees, pretty as a picture, and oh, it’s even better when he manages to focus his gaze on the tableau before him. 

Steve is diligent in worshipping him, of course, but his focus is newly tested because Madge, bless every red hair on her wily English head, takes it upon herself to explore her newly conquered territory, digging her nails in to Steve’s chest and nipples, pink crescents and lines left behind to map out what’s hers. Every touch has Steve jolt, wanting to push back, chase the sensation for more, but she quiets him with nothing more than a disapproving hum, focuses him back on Bucky’s cock and it’s the sight of her perfectly manicured nails coming up to caress Steve’s cheek before digging in to feel Bucky’s cock through his skin, the extra sharp points of pressure he can feel, that has him abandon any attempt as restraint and sprint over the finish, fucking his cock into Steve’s willing and wanting mouth, Peggy crooning like the fox she is in the background.

It takes him a moment or two to recover speech. When he opens his eyes, Madge’s eyes laugh at him, and he wrinkles his nose at her. “I don’t recall you being anymore coherent earlier, you know,” he says.

She snorts. “Then your memory as well as your stamina must be going, Barnes.”

He gasps, pretends mock outrage, before sliding a hand under her neck and lifting to kiss her, feathering presses of his lips to hers, teasing, until she growls and does _ something _ with her hips and shoulders to yank him down to her level. Then all he’s required to do is be ravished, there’s no other word for it, as the Brit lays siege to every defence he has and crumbles them all to dust in a matter of moments. It’s not that her careful, knowing survey of his mouth with her tongue is particularly expert, but the proprietary glint in her eye, the absolute deliberation of every muscle twitch, her calculated stillness in the moments when he feels like he’ll explode if she keeps going, flood his shadowed crevices, fill the cracks left behind from putting himself back together after Hydra’s table, flush out his doubts and fears that Steve would have to choose between them, and the choice would never be Bucky. 

When she finally releases him, he’s speechless again, but for a different reason, heart brimming over, and he cups a hand around her face, draws her in for one more brief touch of the lips, a benediction to their union. 

Then, they both turn to Steve, forgotten in the moment but as peaceful as they’ve ever seen him, watching Bucky and Peggy make their peace. The gold in his hair is darkened to a light brown by sweat, their joint marks darkening his neck and back, but even his super soldier’s knees must be hurting by now, in position for so long on the unforgiving matting.

He tips his head to the side after catching their joined gazes alighting on his shoulders and trailing downward through acres of smooth skin, contentment crinkling the corners of his eyes. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He says.

Peggy feels the words well up in her chest, the _ I love you _ she’s already let her foolish heart go rampaging off with like a pirate after gold when presented with this wonderful, awful, glorious, frustrating American. 

Two of them, now. But Steve was the first to tear a little of her heart away, as tightly as she tried to cage it, with the heart of a lion and the body of a mouse, and so totally scornful of the impositions the latter made on his attempts to right every wrong he could see. Peggy likes to think she’s no innocent Ensligh chit to be swayed by pretty eyelashes and a noble, longsuffering mien, but those combined with a mind like a steel trap, dry wit and gentle, respectful hands? It was a wonder she hadn’t simply declared herself to him the moment he strode over from detaching the flag from its pole: dusty, sweaty, and the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, with the jut of his chin and all the cool disdain of the captain he wasn’t, then.

Barnes had crawled his way in there soon after appearing on the scene, of course. Clawed through her defences and squatted in the dark corners of her heart that she wouldn’t, couldn’t let Steve see, her dark mirror. And as tonight has made abundantly clear, not a rival, but a part of their circle, clicking into place between and around her and Steve. 

The words batter at her teeth, clenched to keep them from escaping and laying waste to the defences of decades. Barnes knows she’s keeping secrets, and that he doesn’t care is a boon, a foil she can spar against to blunt the worst of her sharp edges, but Steve… Peggy _ wants_. Wants to spill her guts to him, to allow him to cradle her against his massive shoulder and shelter her from The Agent, all the worst parts she chooses to deploy. Wants only to be and to breathe. 

Barnes’ hand stroking her hip brings her back, and she shifts to kiss him, the heat in his gaze offset just a little by the knowing calculation lurking under it. The wolf’s never far from the surface like this, and she likes it, but she likes softness too. And the gasp from Steve that flutters across the room tickles her spine in the most thrilling way as she pictures his view: herself and James, twined against each other like two cats, petting each other and nearly purring, claws sheathed but still deadly. Fierce and furious and fiery.

The kissing’s so good though, all tongue and teeth, and she rather hopes James takes the time to teach Steve a few of his tricks because they are very nice indeed. But all good things must come to an end, and she pulls herself away with a groan, swiping the bulge in James’ pants as she wriggles out of his lap. The stifled curse this produces is music to a woman’s ears, but Steve’s been neglected long enough, and she’s tired. Tired in ways another round of utterly fantastic lovemaking won’t fix, but at least might help her sleep tonight.

And she wants it. A sort of domesticity, daily devotion to one another that speaks its own quiet language in the passing of weeks and months and years together, slipping into pockets of time and affection. 

“Come here, Steve.” She holds out a hand to him, like he’s a kitten needing to be enticed to join them, and is unprepared for the thrill that shivers through her when he crawls to join her and James, leonine and radiating danger before settling on his knees again, resting his head against her thigh, cheek nuzzling into her palm like a gigantic, affectionate housecat. 

James’ hand joins hers to caress his face and grip his hair, slowly applying pressure until his head is bowed back, that strange ecstasy suffusing Steve’s features as James’ grip tightens. 

“Good boy,” James breathes, and Steve - there’s no other word for it - he _ melts_, pressing heavily against her side to keep upright. 

Oh, the things she wants to do to this man. 

Peggy’s a little afraid sometimes, of how she loves, fears waking one morning to find she can’t let go, ever, that mean possessive devil sat on her shoulder victorious and glorying in how the life drains from her beloved’s eyes, choked to death by the unrelenting crush of her.

“Tell me, Steve, what does James do to you?” A much larger part of her lights up in glee as Steve flushes, eyes darting downwards and teeth creeping forward to nibble that wonderfully plush set of lips. “What do you like? And what do you let him do anyway?

James chuckles, dark and rich in her ear as he slides his hand to Steve’s throat, resting it there without tightening his grip. Steve’s breathing picks up anyway though, as he responds. “Madge, you ask the _ best _ questions. Stevie here loves this, loves my hands on him. Loves your hands on him too I’ll bet,” tipping her such an outrageous wink she can’t help but let out a peal of laughter, “such a slut for attention, aren’t you Stevie?”

Steve’s gone post-box red now. “Yes Buck.” The hand on his throat squeezes, and he gasps, cock a clear outline against his briefs. “Like being yours.” He glances Peggy’s way, shy. “Like your hands on me, like you telling me I’m good. Like making you feel good.”

Peggy rakes her nails through his hair. “Go on,” she prompts, sure from his squirming there’s more to this than he’s confessed.

“Don’t miss a trick, do you darlin’?” James says, admiring. “C’mon punk. Tell her all the stuff that gets you hot. All the filthy little secrets you’n I talked about.”

Steve shudders, hands coming up to clutch at her hips as James continues to threaten his air. “Like you callin’ me names, and treating me like I don’t matter, like I’m just a pet,” he whispers, “an’ Buck makes me get him off how he wants, I just gotta take it the way he wants.”

“Steve.” Barnes’ voice cracks through the air like iron. 

Peggy lets her hands roam further, lascivious and unashamed of the lust surging through her when she can feel every muscle in his back, can trace the pebbled hardness of his nipples and feel him twitch under her hands, a lion willingly sat at her feet, made powerless by nothing more than her and Barnes’ command. 

Steve whines, then meets her gaze, face drawn and defensive for the first time since she’s met him. “I let Bucky fuck me!” he blurts, crimson and cringing, and it’s so wrong Peggy has to take a split second to right herself before a sharp laugh escapes her. 

“Silly boy, you thought that would bother me?” Steve nods, face relaxing as he looks at her properly, taking in the distinct lack of anything resembling anger. “No, dearest. In fact, I do believe that’s something I simply must insist on seeing as soon as possible. You two are so lovely together.” The soft kiss Steve presses to her knuckles has her core clench. It’s as if the two climaxes she’d had were days ago, not half an hour. But she’s so inexperienced in this, it pays to be careful.

“James-” she starts. Frowns, closes her mouth, searching for the right words. The brunette strokes her breast, the touch a delicious lick of heat stoking the fire of her arousal again. 

“What is it?” He says, leaning forward to capture her lips again. This time it’s slow, molasses heavy, and she struggles not to surrender to the drugging drag of his tongue, to remember to speak when all she wants is to throw him and Steve down and ride their pricks until they’re all so spent and sated that Bacchus would be proud. 

Eventually, she pries him off her, sweeps her hair out of her eyes, and my goodness what a fright she must look. “James, how will this work? You and Steve have this well in hand, I can see that,” Steve’s hand stroking her thigh is a pleasant and distracting surprise, but she soldiers on, “but I wouldn’t for the world hurt either of you. I confess, this is new to me, and I’m not used to… starting an operation with so little - intelligence.”

Steve and James exchange glances, and when James nods Steve slithers up from the floor to cuddle her between them on the bed. She’d be impressed by his guile if it hadn’t clearly been Barnes’ idea and also so bloody _ comfortable_. 

“Pegs, we don’t - he doesn’t do just anything.” Steve’s still blushing, bless him, and idle amusement joins the thrum of need coiling in her. “Um, he and I screwed up in the beginning. Got a little too mean, the both of us.” James hums in agreement. “We, uh, sorta talked it out. I mean, I yelled at him,” she snorts, well able to picture the blond five foot nothing spitfire giving one James Buchanan Barnes hell, “and he yelled at me, and when we were done yelling we decided we’d talk it over once we’d done, and if it all headed south during, we’d tell each other to knock it off, punk to jerk, and jerk to punk.”

“Really.” Behind her, James shrugs, and Steve’s sheepish grin is still more attractive than it should be. “Well, if it works, I suppose I can’t argue.”

“Worked so far.” James grunts. “An’ before you make some smart remark, it don’t have to be that for you. Pick what works. Don’t care so long as it’s something we all know means ceasefire.”

Peggy purses her lips, thinking. There’s a choice hovering here, between something simple and shallow that lets her keep the invisible armour weighing her down, and something that exposes her belly, puts her in the sniper’s scope to join them in wild abandon for however many days they have left in this ruin of a world at war. 

“I think,” she muses, “that I’ve quite enjoyed getting to know Steve and his James, my Captain and his Sergeant. So I’d much rather not have my fun interrupted by... the higher ups. Like, oh - a Colonel, if you take my meaning.”

James grimaces, then kisses her forehead, Steve curling his hands around her waist. “Philips, Jesus. Couldn’t have picked a better word to stop us. But I understand, doll.” James says, wolf’s eyes soft this time. “Just us. No shop talk, no politics. Just you an’ me,” he breathes, tipping her into his chest, “taking our time with our boy here, lovin’ on him, lovin’ on each other. How’s that sound?”

Steve smiles like the rising sun. “Sounds great Buck.” He rests a huge hand on her belly, the other cradling her leg. “Peg?”

“Mmmm. Wonderful, just… don’t stop,” the fog of pleasure from their hands takes nearly all her attention. “Steve.”

“Yeah Peggy?”

“I want to see you and Barnes. Together.” The sharp intake of breath next to her means she allows herself a smug grin. Even half delirious with pleasure, she’s still got it. 

“More than happy to oblige, vixen.” Barnes’ voice is thick with lust, and the way he scruffs Steve before dragging him onto his back on the bed is the stuff Michaelangelo would have sold his soul to sculpt. “But it ain’t about just us. Think you’re up for a little more?”

It’s only the faint tease in his tone that halts her automatic bristle. She cocks her head to look at him, head haloed in the yellow lamplight burning behind him, hovering over her. “Out with it, James, whatever filthy escapade it is you’ve had cooking in that head of yours since we first stepped in here.” His rueful smirk gives it away. “Or well before that, even, you sly dog!”

“Guilty, guilty!” he laughs, handsome and boyish, and oh, she can see the boy that Steve fell in love with there, cocky and bright and devil-may-care electricity crackling in the heavy air before the sky opens. “But in my defence, you’re both so pretty I couldn’t help myself.”

She worms a hand free, and pokes him in the ribs, delighted by the alarmed yelp it produces. “Spill the beans, Barnes, or I and your ribs will have a date of a different kind.”

“Ruthless,” he complains, swooping in for a scorching kiss that leaves her panting and tugging at the buttons on his trousers. “But I was just thinking it’d be awful rude to leave the lady to amuse herself while I bugger Steve,” she can’t stop herself from sniggering at this, especially when he pantomimes a terribly wounded look her way, “so why not put Steve to use wringing another orgasm out of that pretty cunt of yours at the same time?”

“Oh.” She swallows, the imagery setting up a telling throb between her legs. “Not a problem. Although -” she grimaces, regret bitter in her mouth. “No rubber, I’m afraid.”

James raises his eyebrows. “I distinctly remember that not being necessary the last time.” He lets her slap his shoulder for that, before blithely carrying on. “Besides, what else d’you think I willingly spent so much time with the docs for?” He fishes out a few small packets from his pockets with a steel-eyed smirk. 

Peggy has to laugh. “And here I was, thinking your flirtations with the pretty cadets were compensation enough for the inconvenience.” 

His eyes flicker in the candlelight, a dangerous, predatory gleam, one that has Peggy suppress a shiver. Few survive seeing those eyes, and she’s one. The wolf’s teeth won’t hurt in play. 

“Never, doll, never. Couldn’t hold a candle to you, or him, and didn’t want nothing but to be back out watching you two crazy idiots let loose. Don’t get nothing for free, and how glad am I a few lines of conversation got me what I needed for _ this_.” Barnes mouths her shoulder, ignoring the plaintive noise Steve makes as he announces, “Stevie knows he only gets to come if he’s been good. This’ll be a perfect test.”

Peggy rolls her head round to where Steve is watching them, wonder and exhilaration in equal measure. “That alright, darling?”

He nods, shy again, before bending to kiss her. He’s not as confident as Barnes, more tentative and happier when she takes charge, plundering his mouth, biting at his lips and moving to suck livid marks into his neck. Peggy’s always been territorial, and what wonderful territory she has now. 

It’s not until Steve whines into her mouth, his whole body shuddering, that she realises James has been busy tormenting Steve too. Kissing down his chest, she tugs his hair a little while tilting to the side to see James sliding slicked up fingers into the perfectly formed arse millions of dollars of American government funding managed to produce. The sight sends fire spiralling through her veins, an insatiable need to possess every scrap of these two she can lay her hands on and stamp them with her name, her mark. Being that she can’t do that, the next best thing is kissing Steve senseless and guiding his hand to her cunt.

“Oh!” His wide eyed astonishment almost makes her laugh, but she’s too hungry for him, her blood up and hating how empty she feels.

“Two fingers, Steve, inside me.” She arranges his hand how she wants and guides it down. “Now. Go slow, I’ll tell you to stop if I need to.” She takes in the haze encroaching his gaze. “Be good.”

He trembles, and whimpers, and then fills her up, so deliciously slow but unyielding, fingers entering her inch by inch as she gasps, walls spasming as her body adjusts to the invasion. The stretch and burn morphs into bone deep bliss soon enough, and Steve, bless him, is eager to follow her directions. Eager to crook his fingers and stroke her, thrusting gently, to build that full body feeling she can only liken to being doused in the fiercest sunlight all day, sensation building until she feels lit up from the inside. 

She doesn’t want it to end yet, though, so she manages to pant out an order to stop, enjoying the feeling of his fingers in her, twitching her hips to chase the faint sparks of sensation from before. Far more fascinating though, is the way Steve’s composure is being mercilessly shattered by James, working his fingers into Steve in combination with feather-light touches to his cock that have the super soldier haplessly caught between thrusting forward and back, chasing the feeling at both ends and catching neither. James plays him as a skilled musician does his instrument, and they’re both beautiful, more beautiful than she could find words to express. Wetness trickles down her thigh, Steve’s fingers in her cunt a snug, perfect tease, the fucked-out ecstasy of him like one of the fair folk Peggy’s nurse used to scare her with. 

His hair sticks up in all directions, he’s red and scratched from her and James, and face contorted as James shifts behind him to replace his fingers with his cock. His fingers curl in her, other hand dug into the mattress, and she’s helpless to stop the way her hips jerk, his fingertips stroking against something that sends a fresh wash of quivering heat through her. But she can wait. Peggy’s never seen anything so beautiful, and doubts there’s anything to match it, even in heaven and its host of angels. Blasphemous she may be, but this blessing is all she never dared to dream of. She’s loved before, and lost before, so the welling flutter in her ribcage isn’t new - but then it is. Because there’s no-one like Steve, and his James, two parts so closely intertwined, that although they do well enough separate, when they’re united they form a greater whole. And now, she’s here, a third part become one, at last.

Steve moves his fingers in her again, the thrill ebbing enough for him to look to her pleasure, and isn’t that typical? Exasperated fondness has her sit up, sliding off his fingers, and surge in, as relentless and inexorable as the tide, to sip from his lips like they’re fine wine, roll her tongue against his until her breasts ache from his hands, his gentle, brawny hands, and she has to tear herself away before she does something foolish. 

It surprises her, on doing so, to see Barnes watching them, buried to the hilt in Steve but stock still, something wondering in the twitch of his eyes, and a softness to him she’s not sure how to handle. Steve’s lips on her neck, trailing leisurely down her chest, means he gets a fresh set of nail marks in his back, and Barnes groans, grinding forward in Steve, the blond pausing to wheeze against her shoulder, torso seizing under her. She traces a route down his back, mapping the bunched muscles he’s suffered for; that Erskine’s serum had wrought in a blaze of light and crackling current. A good man, he’d wanted, but even he hadn’t known how good. 

“Steve, you’re doing so well,” she murmurs, longing to see him and Barnes fall over the edge with her, “I want to make you feel good, darling, I want you to let go and have Barnes and I take care of you.”

Her words, and hands, catch him off guard, and a quick glance at James has him start a steady rhythm, drawing out fully before sheathing himself again, to the root of his admittedly generously proportioned cock that Peggy may or may not want to test out herself. Another time, though, because now she has a lapful of whining supersoldier, trying not to grasp her too tightly, but so torn by sensation he shreds the sheet. She cradles his dazed face, kisses more flushed wonder into his eyes before guiding him down to trail his tongue over her peaked nipples, hissing as soft, wet suction spirals her higher than ever. She strokes a hand over his hip, brushing up Barnes’ belly as he pauses to scatter kisses across Steve’s back, winking at her as he recommences driving Steve wordless. 

She laughs. “Barnes, don’t tease. The poor boy’s had enough of it tonight, don’t you think?”

James clucks his tongue, digs his nails into Steve’s hips to make him whimper. “Never would have pegged you for a soft touch Madge.”

“Well, I suppose I am a little more mellow than usual from our - earlier activities.”

“You suppose, do you? I,” he slaps Steve’s arse, garnering a squeak that is _ most _ interesting, “know Steve knows he’s not allowed to come unless he’s given permission. Usually by me, but I’m a mean bastard who likes to see him cry first.” He punctuates this with another slap before fisting his hand in Steve’s scalp to drag his head back and to the side to look him in the eyes. “You hear that, punk? If you ask nice enough, Peggy here might let you come before I would.” 

Steve nods, darts a hot glance her way. “Please Pegs,” and oh, his voice wrecked and hoarse, shouldn’t make her want to hurt him more, but it does, “I want to come, want you to touch me, make me yours.”

She smiles, and James cackles in delight when he sees it. 

“I might.”

Steve groans, eyes glistening along with the rest of him. “Please, Peggy, I’m begging you, please, I’m so close, it hurts, I need to come, please let me, _ please- _”

He cuts off with a high pitched yip as she grasps his cock, red and drooling, grip loose enough he’ll never get the stimulation he needs. It takes a moment for him to realise this, and when his face falls she almost feels bad, but the heady power of twisting her wrist and seeing him fall apart all over again soon assuages that. 

“Then again I might not.” She says.

James raises a brow at her, clearly communicating he thinks she’s a liar, and she makes a face back at him as he speeds up, the muscles in his abdomen clenching as he flexes his hips quicker, meeting Steve’s skin with a hard slap each time. It shouldn’t set her alight inside to see, but it does, the moans and shudders from the indomitable Captain America, reduced to a quivering mess under his shadowed Sergeant, irresistible. Need suffuses her, and she caresses Steve properly for the first time, ignoring his agonised exhalation of her name to work up and down his shaft, marvelling at the softness of his sheath, its slight curve. She wants it, wants him, wants _ them_. 

“Barnes,” she grits out, pussy aching with emptiness and skin tingling with the need to see him, them, come undone, “can you fuck him if he’s lower, fucking me?”

James goggles at her. “Sweet Mary mother of God, I don’t know where they teach you English dames this shit, but hell am I grateful. Yes.”

Satisfied, she wriggles her way down the mattress, slacking off on working over Steve as she goes, to his disappointment. She leans down and bites a nipple to get his attention again, liquid oozing out of her when his cock twitches in her hand. “Steve, darling, pay attention.”

Bless him, he does try, lifting his head to search he gaze, bleary-eyed with sensation and the drugged up look of someone who’s not quite sure what they feel anymore, only that there’s an awful lot of it. “Good boy,” she croons, loving the sigh he gives, nuzzling into her hand like a sweet puppy, “yes, so good for me and James, you’ve done so well darling, so well for us. I want you to come, Steve, but I want you inside me when you do, with James in you, the both of us having you like we should, like you want. Yes?” She’s not sure if it’s too much, the torn sheet a testament to the overwhelming experience he’s endured for them so far. 

And Philips would be less than impressed if her vagina broke the Allies’ only supersoldier, so. Best be careful. 

Steve nods, dumbstruck at first, before recovering. “Peggy it’s all I want, God, you’ve no idea - you and Buck,” his breath hitches as she shimmies lower, tilting her pelvis up to make it easier for the tip of his cock to brush her slick folds every time James surges into him, “love you so much, both of you, God, how’d an idiot like me get so lucky, huh?” His voice goes breathy by the end as she swirls her fingertips around his cockhead, rubbing her juices along his shaft. She’s soaking, body open and greedy, wanting everything he can give her. She fumbles for one of James’ little packets, grasps one just as her core is about to combust with frustrated lust, and slaps it onto Steve’s chest with just a tad more force that she possibly should have.

Bucky laughs behind Steve as the blond blinks, before scrambling to put it on, low grunts punched out of him in time with the flex of Bucky’s hips. He whistles, long and low, when Steve, finally having managed to put the rubber on, lowers himself to begin to slide into her. “I got no notion except you’s a lucky sonuvabitch, Rogers, an always have been.”

Steve’s drawn out ‘I know’ almost isn’t recognisable as words, but Peggy’s beyond caring as her body reacts to the stretch of Steve sinking into her, sparks flying up her spine with every inch, unable to do anything except clutch at his arms, crying, “Oh, oh - yes Steve, oh, yesss. Darling, yes!” He braces on his forearms over her, body nearly laid on tops of hers and caging her in his heat and bulk. If she could, she’d chain him and James to this bed and never let either of them leave it again, damn the war. She’s exquisitely sensitive, and Steve pauses, worry crossing his face as he looks at her, until she snarls at him. “You’d better keep going if you want to come in the next decade, _ Steven_.” He can’t flush any deeper but the gasping moan her invective prompts him to release is… gratifying. 

Peggy isn’t one to like bullies. It’s what made her really see Steve, before the muscles, before the serum. That staunch goodness, unbowed by circumstance and a body too small for the spirit inside it, caught her heart long before it caught her eye. That being said, Steve seems to like this bullying, this cruel tenderness. Craves it, even. And God, it’s terrible of her, but she loves giving it to him, a hot flush of victory and power sweeping through her at his subjugation: not broken and beaten, but willingly helpless. At least James seems to be the same.

The moment breaks as Steve slips further in her, and she arches, digging her nails in to drive him on and glaring at James for having exactly what he wants already. James’ snort and subsequent _ something _ has Steve jolt forward at last to fill her completely, solid and hot, the burning stretch making her heave in air, mind awhirl with sensation and aching to chase her peak again. 

“Move!” She hisses, to both of them, wishing men were just a little less stupid and could get on with things without needing a woman to tell them what to do. Even though it normally proves quite useful in her line of work. 

When they thrust, she scrabbles to get hands on James, determined to stake her claim on him as he had done to her earlier, to test his words, make sure he wouldn’t split off and take Steve with him, from her. 

Something of this must show in her face, (and God, what a fright she must be now, red faced, sweaty and - devil take it, what will her hair need doing to put it right after?) and he leans forward, curving to the side of Steve to press himself against her lips, dusting kisses across her nose, cheeks, forehead, chin, everywhere he can reach. 

“Hey Madge. Doin’ okay?”

She nods, throat clogged and confidence fleeing quicker than the unit of Panzer tanks had once they realised Captain America was capable of snapping their turrets off like toothpicks. She’s a mess.

“No brass on the horizon?” The enquiry confuses her for a split second, before the taste of hidden steel chases out the despair. _ Colonel _ she’d said, and he remembers. He wants this, wants her, wants their happiness more than he ever wanted Steve to himself.

“Good. Gonna let our boy come? Or d’you want to take him for a ride a while longer?”

Steve’s despairing moan makes her giggle a little, spirits rising and the renewed throb of her unsatisfied cunt a reminder that he chose her. They chose her. She loosens her death grip on James’ hip to stroke soothingly along his ribs and spine. She chose them too. Mess and all.

“It’s alright Steve, he’s not serious. You’re going to make me come, and then you’re going to come too. Whenever you want.” She purses her lips in mock consternation. “I suppose if he must, James can come too.”

Steve’s shoulders shake, gasping fevered thank-yous as he applies himself to thrusting into her with fresh vigour. James, on the other hand, shakes his head in disbelief. “Good thing I’m not the one that needs permission. Gawd.” 

She throws her head back as he picks up the pace, shoving Steve harder into her, the added image of Steve’s careful subservience to James sparking a tightness deep in her core that she recognises. Each thrust spirals her higher, and she kisses Steve frantically, panting nonsense to him, clenching on his hot length every time he pushes in. Every movement drives her harder towards the cliff ledge, and when Steve bites her shoulder, James growling filth to them both, her body flings her over the edge with gleeful abandon, orgasm rocketing through her like she hadn't come at all earlier. It crashes through her with roaring force, muscles rigid and shaking as she battles to keep her eyes open through the storm of pleasure, languor slithering through her bones as she comes off the high, heartbeat wild and skin feeling like she’s had sandpaper rubbed all over her. 

Steve’s biting his lip now, and she cups his face, whispers filthy endearments to him as his hips stutter, body racing forward now he’s not restraining himself, fucking into her to the point she spasms, again, a second wash of pleasure sweeping her away and drowning her in him: his scent, his ragged panting, his heavy touch. It’s when she’s floating back to earth that she feels him seize up, jerking as he finally obtains his release, little tremors still wracking him as James continues to roll his hips, sweat streaming down his chest from the effort of their coupling. It doesn’t take long before he too topples into his own little death, mouth dropping open in silent ecstasy, knuckles gone white on Steve’s hips, a grip Peggy is sure will leave finger shaped bruises. And isn’t that a delicious secret she can hide in her heart, that Steve will be walking round tomorrow wearing both their marks under his uniform? And, continuing her perusal of her partners, so it seems, will James. Although Steve had come off worst, having had his back within easy reach the entire time, James still has some crescent shaped marks on his hips and thighs, in addition to the angry bites she’d sucked onto him earlier.

She traces the livid outlines over his hip as James comes back to himself, slack jawed and breathing like a bellows. Presses into the dimples, just to see his flanks quiver, overexerted muscles spasming in one last effort at arousal. 

“Fuck, goddamnit Carter, you’re about to finish me off if you keep that up!”

She raises one eyebrow, loving the fact he can’t hide from her like this, every inch of him open and raw, honest in a way none of them except Steve are any more in this godforsaken war. “If I’m not mistaken, James, we already _ finished _ you off.” Lets the sly curl of her mouth travel up to her eyes.

Steve’s chuckle has her gasp, the motion moving him inside her still sensitive flesh, and evidently Barnes feels similarly at the other end, judging by the string of curse words he spits out. 

He recovers enough to glare at her, nonetheless. “You know what I mean, you vixen. The death of me, I tell ya!” 

She allows herself a smug smile. “Not while I have a use for you - come now Barnes, you ought to know better than that.”

He groans, but the show of reluctance is betrayed by the shadow of the dimples formed when he tries not to smile. 

“Might as well give in Buck, got no call to refuse a lady, you know that.” Steve’s interjection has him narrow his eyes in mock annoyance, before he gives up the pretence, sliding free of Steve, and flops over onto the side of the bed next to her. He yawns, scrubbing at the trails of sweat sliding down his temples and next with the sheet. 

“Look like m’resisting right now, punk?” 

Steve stays braced above them both, barely winded and gently smiling when she and Barnes are blowing like freshly finished racehorses, and about as glamorous. She can’t bring herself to hate him for it, but it’s close. 

“Mm, no,” his ocean eyes fill her with awe, again, and she’s lucky she can play off the catch in her chest as a consequence of their recent overexertion, “can’t say that you do, Buck, but you look awful good while doing it.”

“Fuggoff Rogers,” Barnes grumbles, fumbling a hand up to pinch vaguely in the direction of Steve’s nipple, and she giggles, unfortunately far too charmed by the childish action. 

“Don’t speak idiot, Buck, what was that?”

James growls, eyes flinty, and Steve freezes. “Don’t think,” he jerks a hand up to grip Steve’s jaw, rough and uncompromising, “that the rules don’t apply to you, Rogers, now Peggy’s here. You’re still on my shit list from earlier, and you _ know _ the consequences of that if you keep running your mouth.”

Peggy laughs, short and sharp and vicious, at the look on Steve’s face following that pronouncement, half trepidation, half perverse longing. James sees it too, shaking his head in her curls and tutting. “Stevie, you know I’ll make you hate it. Be nice, and you might get what you want instead, the way you want it.”

And oh, the thoughts that statement usher in.

Peggy lets her eyes sweep across the hard planes of Steve’s chest and shoulders, take a stroll down to the deep crease of his hips, and at last, the soft plumpness of his cock, at half mast again. It’s gratifying, the knowledge that she, and Barnes, arouse him so, although she’s aware the serum has more than a bit to do with his frankly inhuman refractory period. 

Steve blushes again, but she likes this, loves how James’ handling reduces him to a whimpering mess, his blush burned deep across those acres of skin, no longer with that heady mix of uncertainty and mortification at being so exposed in front of her, but the layers stripped away until the red rising to the surface is from sheer neediness, wordless, inchoate begging rippling through the air like the silk blouse Steve had so gleefully stripped off her earlier. 

She stretches, letting Barnes tuck his face onto her shoulder. “I think I have a fairly good idea of what he might have planned for you, Steve, and all I can say is that I approve, and would be rather disappointed if you didn’t let me join in.”

Steve whines at that, half of his own volition, and half from the tightened fist Barnes has in his hair. 

“_Would _ you now, Madge?” James’ breath, hot and heavy and hungry, sends sparks flying up her neck and into her scalp. Such a shame the flesh is weak when the spirit, evidently, has barely begun to be sated.

She reaches out, cups Steve’s cheek as he stares at her, pupils blown and mouth slightly agape. Inhales, then digs her nails in, and down, down to pinch, hard, at a dusky nipple, relishing the thin whimper it nets her. Steve jerks, not enough to dislodge her grip, but she eases off anyway, fearful of trespassing into unwelcome territory. Barnes says nothing, but the sharp burn of his eyes intensifies as she soothes the hurt, smoothing the soft, pebbled skin around the nail marks she’s left. 

What a wondrous thing, to have a man take this from her and love her all the more for it. 

“Well?” If there’s a slight snap to her question, that’s only to be expected after weeks of drill and fighting for command in the field. Nothing at all to do with the lurch of doubt in her stomach when neither of them say anything, eyes exchanging messages she hasn’t had a lifetime of growing up together to help decipher.

Steve nudges her cheek with his, cradles his lips to hers as Barnes conquers the remaining skin on her collarbones he hasn’t yet managed to mark. Steve pulls back enough to breathe in, still with that half concussed expression of joy which makes her simultaneously want to push him in a pond and pull him onto her lap. 

“I don’t know,” he rumbles, “how on God’s green earth I got this lucky. But you make me so happy, Peggy, God, the both of you make me feel like a million bucks.” The warmth of his regard startles her into blushing, and Steve grins, delighted.

“Only a million, Steve?” She volleys back, scrambling to control herself as the redness races down her face to her chest, James’ fingertip tracing its leading edge.

“With you there Madge. Woulda thought a million each, at least.” His fingers settle on her stomach, pulling her to turn over and face him. “You blush pretty, vixen.”

She can’t stop the even more violent wash of colour his purring produces, to her everlasting mortification; and to his evident glee, soft laugh lapping at her skin.

“Well now, would you look at that? Just as bad as Steve after all.”

Peggy’s lips quirk without her say so at this, but she firms them and pretends outrage as best she can in her current state of total undress, bedhead, and compromised position. “Just as bad? I think I’m offended, Sergeant-”

“Oh you know I mean twice as good really, darlin’,” he kisses her, expression cunning, until she pulls away to finish her sentence.

“-I happen to hold it as a point of pride I am at least three times as bad as Captain Rogers.” She nods to herself, inwardly preening as both her boys’ expressions turn possessive and carnal. “That’s on a good day, of course. Most days - I’m far worse.”

Steve swoops in to kiss her, groaning as she bites his lip hard, enough to nearly draw blood. He nuzzles in further, but subsides when James taps his shoulder, heavy-eyed and indulgent.

She looks up, nestled against his chest, the memory of the day’s violence submerged below a blanket of heat and secret intimacy she never dreamed of having. 

“So much worse, huh?” There’s a wry twist to James’ smile as he sighs, curling into the creases of her body. “Going t’have my hands full with the two’a you, won’t I?” 

Steve dimples at her, shuffles up the bed to settle on top of them - well, mostly James, and Peggy shoots him a grateful smile for it in return. “Like you’d have it any other way, Buck.” He rubs against him like a lion, all indolence and yawning golden-limbed sprawl, heavy paw of a hand pulling her closer, draping himself over them. Peggy sinks into the feeling, soaks in the warmth and safety, drawing it round her like Steve’s shield. The day’s conflicts - and several magnificent orgasms - sneak up on her and add weights to her eyelids, drooping already from the comfort of two excellent human pillows.

“You’re goddamn right I wouldn’t.” Bucky’s voice rasps, a yawn overtaking his final vowels, and she snorts. He tuts. “‘Cept when a man’s tryna’ sleep. G’way.”

“I thought you promised to give Steve and I what we wanted, Barnes?” She can’t resist needling him even though her words are fuzzy and Hypnos’ realm beckons.

Barnes grumbles and Steve shushes him, patting his hip. “Yeah. Yeah, I s’pose I did. Later. Vixen. Punk. Damn wore me out...” There’s surge of terrible affection for him in her chest as his eyes flutter shut, face slacking out into sleep, so young, so vulnerable. The sheer ferocity of her own protectiveness startles her. It’s easy to forget, most of the time, that James is not a supersoldier, that he’s nothing more than another drafted young soldier, far away from home, who never sought out the fight like she and Steve did. Until one sees him like this and wants nothing more than to guide his steps, guard his dreams. Funny, what feelings can do. She’d persisted in thinking him her enemy, but he’d already wormed his cocksure way into her heart. 

“Alright Peggy?” Steve asks, so sweet and gentle and so Steve you’d never know there lurked a supersoldier capable of tearing men’s heads from their shoulders. One whose soul is as merciful as the Lamb’s and regrets, the way she never does, every death he deals. Steve laces his fingers with hers and the thing in her chest grows claws, grows teeth, for what they have is fragile.

“Perfect, darling. Sleep now. I have everything I want.”

But Peggy is not. 

**Author's Note:**

> Wolfhuntsmoon: A huge thank you to my wonderful artist, HeroicPinups, who is immeasurably talented and a joy to work with. I feel so lucky to have you choose my work. Another huge thank you to the CABB mods for organising. This fic has been by far the smuttiest and the *ahem* hardest thing I've ever written (so! many! limbs! everywhere!) but I have enjoyed myself immensely throughout. This started life as fill for my MCU KinkBang 'Teasing' square, then grew legs once I saw a line on Tumblr (Exactly what part of don’t do anything reckless didn’t you understand) and thought to myself: that sounds *exactly* like what a truly exasperated James Barnes would say when his two favourite idiots nearly kill themselves, again, and he needs to Teach Them A Lesson.


End file.
